Last Known Apprentice
by Skilgannon
Summary: Well, I did this a while back, my first stab at fanfiction, and I wanted to get some feedback ultimately to decide whether it's worth me putting the time into finishing it, or if it's already a doomed project, and I completely suck.


_**Prologue**_

_It replayed in his mind, as it had in his master's. Should he have been faster, smarter, stronger, quicker to draw his conclusions and act upon them, should he have been all of these things, he still may not have been able to anything to influence the outcome of events. He was in the arena, standing on the blood-soaked sand, his green saber held slanting at his side, his grip upon it causing his knuckles to turn a ghostly white, as did his face upon surveying the horror around him. There were corpses everywhere, and not just the disassembled parts of shiny metallic super-battle droids, but the remains of Geonosian warriors, their wings torn and their bodies dashed to the thirsty ground which absorbed their essence, sapped their life blood. _

_Worst though, and the most terrifying thing he was yet to witness in his short life so far, were the bodies of so many great Jedi, young and old, fallen side by side in this deadly battle, and it wall as down to that bastard up their, he thought, with undisguised hatred, looking upon the worn face of the old man, count dooku, whose face was adorned by a bristly, coarse beard, silver shot through every which way whereas only a few years ago it had been streaked with grey. It had consumed him, as had the dark side, thought Dehja sadly. It had reduced him to slaughtering his own comrades without remorse. It had always been there, but it had been more prominent as the years rolled on, until finally he gave into it, and never looked back, even when confronted by old friends._

_He heard count dooku spew some crap about the Jedi surrendering and their lives consequently being spared, and Dejha found himself nauseated by his words. But despite his love for his old friend, Master Windu was no fool to be played so easily. "We will not be hostages to be bartered with, dooku!" Mace stormed, and the underlying pride that Dejha had for his old master swelled, and he was nearly overwhelmed by it. A sheer wall of defiance in the force, Mace Windu stood at the head of the Jedi, his saber outstretched in much the same fashion as was Dejha's, his words the thoughts of them all, magnified and honed to spear into dooku, who appeared to be slightly saddened to have to order the attack on his old friend._

_However, he was set on his course, as was Windu, and with neither ready to back down, he sadly announced that he was sorry, and the arms of the droids that surrounded the small Jedi strike team, previously locked to their chests vertically, harmless, now came to face them horizontally, primed and ready to be fired in their direction. Suddenly one Jedi in the group looked up, and shouted "Look!" and all of their gazes followed his to see hovering above the arena, stirring up the sand into a frenzy as the breeze it created whipped the hems of robes everywhere, slapping at ankles and causing a commotion among the small brigade, a large gunship, the origin of which was confusing to them all. However one thing was certain, if their eyes did not deceive them: Master Yoda stood supported by his small lacquered wooden stick, his shrewd, large round emerald eyes that were the center piece of his wrinkled old face, weather-beaten and naturally green hued, quickly examining the scene below._

_Laser fire erupted in crimson magnificence on the battle-field and droids were torn in half, the ground ripped asunder, as more of the ships hovered close to the ground and the Jedi rushed to the relative safety of the holds where they were greeted by men in white armour, who helped those who needed it up, and finally were able to catch their breath as the great ships ascended high above the arena, and zipped out across the sandy dunes of Geonosis with all due haste. From there, the new clone army was led by Jedi for the very first, but certainly not the last time, into battle against separatist forces. Many more Jedi fell in that battle, and Dehja didn't like to think about that day, for her felt that, with so many other good Jedi dying, he should have followed them, and yet he didn't. For some reason, he, a lowly Knight only just past the trials at the time, had survived, whilst Masters had fallen around him. For the life of him, he simply could not understand why. He was not the only one. _

_Maybe Mace had rubbed off on him even more than he thought, because whilst Dehja thought about his death, Master Windu was tormented by that single lightsaber stroke that could have ended the war before it even had chance to get off the ground. If he had killed Dooku, and accepted death at the hands of Jango Fett, they would not be fighting this war right now. However, even Yoda, wisest of all the Jedi, had been in full support of Mace's actions. The Jedi's role was one of defence, and not attack, and to have killed Dooku in cold blood? It would not have been the Jedi way, and so now hundreds of Jedi had fallen in battle on countless remote battlefronts, their lives snubbed out as if nothing by the sheer scale of this conflict. But everyone was remembered, and for Master Windu it was agonizing, for he felt an overriding sense of guilt at every death. _

_He could not forget, and he could not go back, he had to live with his decision, and it was something he was going to have to slowly come to terms with. They often meditated, and talked together, philosophizing about scenarios, and how they could have been changed, and what was done, and whether it was right, whether it adhered to the code, and this line of thought almost always lead to a dangerous train of thought where Dehja was brought to consider whether or not the Jedi still followed the path of the force, or were they mislead, confused by their own beliefs which they held so dear? Often Master Qui-Gon Jinn would slip into the conversation at one point or another, and questions arose about his actions, and his regular disregard of the Jedi Code. Was his the true path?_

_Of course when the discussions were over, they were over, and that was an end to it. Yet the thoughts lingered in the vaults of his mind, and it nagged at his soul, even as he fought for a cause he began to suspect was as corrupt and useless as Dooku even now maintained it was. Still, he could not bring himself to leave the Jedi, for this would mean betraying his comrades, and this was something he would never do. He was like Mace, in that respect, because he would never go back on his word once he had given it. He would follow the Jedi, though he doubted their path. _

_He could not join the enemy, for they killed innocents for the success of their goal, and Dejha thought that profoundly wrong, however, he did doubt whether or not the Jedi still fought for something worth saving, or if the Republic was truly corrupt at the core. He felt so torn, not knowing which way to go, neither this way nor that, and he hated himself for it, because, like his old master, he had always been a man of action. He liked to act upon his thoughts, feelings, his beliefs, a strong believer that actions spoke louder than words. As was Dooku, the thought leaping unbidden from the dark corners of his minds startled him, but he quickly resolved that Master Windu was too, and he followed the path of light. For now, he would simply have to keep going, and hope that events, and their consequences, would soon become clear to him in the force, and then, finally, he could act upon his feelings, and for all the right reasons._

_**Chapter One: Shadows Of Doubt**_

_**Roughly One Month After The Battle Of Geonosis…**_

News had just arrived. Master Cei Vookto had fallen, and all of the Masters were mourning in their own way. When the package had come, and been opened in the council chambers, each had reacted differently. Master Windu had been grim, yet resolved. Some had wept, whilst others had seemed ready to burst, so angry were they. Master Yoda was quiet, yet clearly grief stricken. The emotions that rolled across the council chamber did not merely deflect off the walls. Often when the council made important decisions, they would communicate through the force, it was not necessary for them top verbally discuss issues, for each could feel the thoughts and feeling of the rest of the group as they happened. This oft lead to younger, more naïve members of the order, to think that the council was merely dictated by the views of it's two most senior members: Master Yoda, and his second, Master Windu.

This, of course was not true, for they all had a say in what went on, and the outcome of vital decisions. However, as the two most senior members of the council, they were the ones who communicate the council's feelings on important matters to the outside world, and to other members of the order. It was interesting to see how different types of Jedi responded to the death of their comrades, how the tragedies of the war affected them. The shadow of doubt in his mind grew larger and more ominous with each Jedi death, and with each Jedi betrayal. It was difficult to stay true to the Jedi ways when fighting this war represented more than just a compromise of their core values, but a full contradiction.

Dooku's resolve also troubled Dehja, for he knew that it hurt Doku to have to kill Jedi, yet he did it anyway. He was so certain, so determined to prove he was right. There was something unnerving about this, something that made Dehja doubt himself and the very beliefs he had lived by his entire life with blind faith. He had to speak to Mace. Whenever he was anxious, or unsure, his old master had the words to put his mind at rest, for he was so sure of himself, so certain what he did was right. But Dehja knew he too had his doubts. For one thing, he did not trust the chancellor, and this was not a good start, for he was at the head of the Republic, the symbol of It's core values, the representative for so many.Furthermore, if he was corrupt, it was a sure sign that half of the senate was, for it was clear for all to see that Palpatine had most of the senate in his back pocket.

Enough brooding, he thought, standing moving to the exit of his small room in the Jedi Temple. This does me no good, and I need to find mace before he leaves for Lianne, where the burial of Master Cei Vookto will take place. He wondered the halls of the temple, passing many other Jedi who seemed to be as lost as he was. There were vacant stares and quiet greetings as he passed through most of the vast temple's rooms and halls, finally making his way to the cold grey durasteel door of the room of a thousand fountains.

"Confused, you are." Came a grizzled old voice, the little creatures voice box having been stretched by the passing of too many centuries acting as a voice for the Jedi Order, and the Republic.

"Yes. I must speak with Master Windu." Dehja said, turning to look down upon the genial face of the old master.

"Answers, you must have?" Asked the withered old master, his voice high-pitched as he asked it.

"Yes, Master. I am sorry to doubt, but I must remain true to myself, whilst also upholding the values of the Jedi Order. It is a difficult thing to do. I feel like I am at a cross-roads, and I do not know which way to turn. The track is beaten and it's edges are being inexorably taken over by the vegetation all around it. I must choose one path, however I feel no inclination to go either way. I have never been so confused. Only now do I realize the Masters have been coddling me all these years, for I know nothing of individuality." He said all at once, fumbling over his words as he did so. The wizened old Master growled his throaty little laugh, one only he could produce, and moved closer, his little stick clicking on the ground as he hobbled over to stand right below Dehja who towered above him, his shadow enveloping Yoda. Dehja thought about how he felt, and Yoda's brow furrowed.

How wise he was. He had known his problem the minute he had seen me, he thought, relieved that someone knew how he felt. All this time, Dehja had felt like he was standing in the shadow of those greater, wiser than him, those who knew what was right, and what was wrong. Dooku seemed so certain of what had to be done, that the Republic had to be destroyed, and a greater civilization built on the ruins of the old, improving upon it and it's corrupt government. Yet now he realized it: so did Yoda. And who did he think the wiser? The greater? Of course, Master Yoda.

"Based upon greatness, your decision should not be. From your heart, it should come. Though stand in your shadow I do, Knight Dehja, your personal opinion does not affect my path, for walk my own, I do. Walk your own, too, you must. First though, find it, you must." The old Jedi said, poking his stick into Dehja's ribs as he finished.

"Thank you, Master. I have walked in the shadows of others for too long. It is time to choose my path, though I am still confused a to what it will be." Dehja said gratefully, a smile returning to his face. The old master grinned broadly, and the mirth in his eyes spoke volumes.

"Like it when you smile, I do. Now, talk to Master Windu, you should, for he shall supply greater knowledge of you than I can, for he was your master."

"Thank you again, Master. I shall do as you say." Dehja said, inclining his head respectfully and turning to the door of the room of a thousand fountains. The door slid open and he entered, the trickling of the water as it worked it's way down to the small pool in the center of the room which was calm, quiet, unperturbed on the surface. This could be applied to Master Windu as well, who sat on a small boulder just above the pond, contemplating likely the same analysis of himself. For although his expression was always one of tranquility, Mace was constantly waging war within his soul. His heart was forever in conflict with his head, and the room of a thousand fountains was a appropriate place to contemplate his own part in this war. He needed the reassurance of Master Yoda when he failed to kill Dooku, and now Dehja need his guidance, his comforting words to get him through this time of doubt.

"Come sit with me." Mace beckoned, not turning to view the troubled expression chasing it's way across Dehja's face. Dehja shuffled forward, eyes downcast, and took a seat on a boulder adjacent to Mace's, only lower. "You are…troubled." Mace tried to choose his words wisely, for he did not want to upset his old apprentice, and he knew how he felt.

"Yes, Master." Dehja replied solemnly.

"Out with it, then. Tell me what it is that is so confusing to you." Mace said, trying his best to set it up so that Dehja would have to confess his problems.

"You already know, Master. We have discussed it before, and I can feel the same conflict raging within you." Dehja said, wincing as he did so, for he knew what was coming next. Mace would dismiss the topic entirely, not wanting to dwell upon a topic of considerable pain for himself. Mace sighed, and turned to look upon Dehja for the first time. He saw the furrowed brow, the lines of his face that weren't there only a few months ago, but the most terrifying thing was his eyes. The light was gone. Just vanished, snubbed out by the harshness of human experience. Mace thought of Dooku, and gritted his teeth. It was his fault. Ever since Geonosis his life, and Dehja's had been a trial, a test of endurance, for the weight upon each of their soul's was too much too bear, more than any one man was ever meant to withstand. But for Dehja it must have been worse, for Mace had spent a lifetime struggling with his dark side, and the guilt it secreted, yet for the young Jedi Knight it was a new experience, a terrible new responsibility.

"What is it you wish to ask me, wish to discover here, Dehja?" Mace asked, his gaze locking with that of the young Jedi. There were no lies between them, so why should he hide this truth? Why should he conceal his doubt? Besides, Master Yoda already knew. He sighed, and let it all out.

"You know that for a long time I have doubted the…path I walk, that of the Jedi," Mace nodded that firm inclination to signal that he'd received the message loud and clear and Dehja was now free to continue, "but Master Yoda revealed something about me that I'd hidden even from myself. The path I walk, whilst that of the Jedi, should not be dictated by the Code, or by what the Jedi stand for, but by my own free will-

"-and what exactly is your will, Dehja?" Mace popped the big question with a raised brow and a curious expression rising to merge with his features.

"I…I don't know. That is the problem. I have not been following my own path thus far, but others, yours, Yoda's…and others have clouded mine." Dehja said, weary to mention Dooku's name around his old friend who felt more hurt than most at the count's betrayal of the Jedi.

"Ahh…" Mace sighed, "You speak of Dooku, the honourable Jedi who turned to the Dark Side, betraying those closest to him…but, for the right reasons, you believe?" Dehja was about to object, when Mace cut in again, "Suspect, then?"

"Yes, Master." Dehja hung his head, for this must have stung his old master, the fact that he doubted the path he walked, yet was attracted to Dooku's way of thinking.

"Do not be ashamed. If we do not question our path, then how do we know we walk the right one? Some Jedi go through their whole life never questioning the blind faith they put in the council and the code, yet all those with reasonable intelligence question the world around them, and their actions, and how they affect other people, even those who we perceive as evil, such as Dooku. We protect, defend, whilst Dooku makes war in the name of peace and manipulates and intimidates countless systems into joining the confederacy. But you do not have to be either extreme, Dehja. You only have to be yourself." Mace finished, a crooked smile appearing, a rare occasion in the presence of someone so grim.

"I think I know what it is I must now do, Master. Thank you." Dehja said gratefully, and got up to leave.

"What is that, Dehja?" Mace asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I must go into exile." Dehja said firmly, trying to cut off any persuasion of him doing other wise at this early stage.

"How long will you be gone?" Mace asked, looking concerned.

"As long as it takes, Master." Dehja said, bowing to his old master, and slowly backing up out of the room.

Mace sighed as the young Jedi Knight left the room of a thousand fountains and he was alone with his thoughts once more. The water was calm on the surface, as was his exterior, though his inner turmoil threatened to engulf him. He too had doubted. This war had to be fought, yet it went against everything the Jedi stood for, and the life of a Jedi was all that he had known in his short life. He understood Dehja's confusion, for he had yet to choose his true path, that was a fact. He had been walking in the footsteps of Master Windu for too long, Mace thought sadly. It appeared now that he needed to find his own, and Mace could only hope that this would not lead Dehja to follow the path of Count Dooku: to the Confederacy, and more importantly, to the Dark Side. One thing was certain though, the Republic would miss such a competent general in the war effort.

_**Chapter Two: Just the beginning…**_

Dehja surveyed the scene from the dark shadows of his hood, glancing this way and that, weary of danger. It was a dangerous time to be a Jedi. Where once there had been respect, now there was doubt, and even fear, which lead to hatred in general. For Dooku was once a Jedi, one of the best, and so both the Sith and the Jedi were misunderstood, and thus feared, because it's common knowledge that people fear what they do not understand. The crowd that had hemmed in around him made him nervous, for he did not like large groups of people, never had. In fact, it brought back pained memories of the most traumatic experience of his life.

"_Daddy?" The young boy cried out helplessly as his father stumbled out in front of him, the crowd dispersing to clear his path. He clutched at his chest where his white woolen jerkin and the child's frosty blue eyes focused on the circle of crimson that soaked through the garments. A strangled breath rattled in his throat, and the man fell forward to land heavily on his front. As the boy watched, scarlet liquid formed in a congealed pool around the limp, lifeless form of the man who had taught him how to act, how to speak, how to spell: simple things, taught by a simple man. The man's words echoed in the darker recesses of the young boy's mind as he stood watching the life being drained from his father, sucked into the black maw of the drain that lay a few feet away in the gutter: "Yesterday laughs, and tomorrow cries, my son, so do not fret, because one thing in this life is certain: I will be there to laugh with you, and if necessary, cry with you to, and help you through the dark times."_

_The words seem to dissipate, fading in his mind's eye as the light left his fathers eyes forever, vanished with his life-blood. The crowd parted once more, and there was a commotion as a young Jedi Knight barged his way through to the front to see what had occurred. Their eyes met, and the young boy held his gaze whilst a single tear rolled down his rosy cheek. He pointed at the corpse, and said, In a choked little voice,_

"_A man killed my daddy." _

"_It's ok." The young man said, moving forward and kneeling down to be at the boy's height, opening his arms invitingly. Dehja gratefully ran into the strong arms, feeling them encircle him he felt comforted, for it reminded him of how his Daddy would always grab him up as he came home from work, spinning him round and making him dizzy. _

"_Now we must leave." The Jedi said, pulling away from the embrace, and staring into the little child's eyes once more, trying not to sound too harsh, his eyes soft, caring._

"_NO!" Dehja wailed, clenching his fists, tears streaming down his face, streaking his podgy cheeks. The young Jedi moved closer, and attempted to pick Dehja up, but the boy screamed louder, and the Jedi fell back, as if repelled by an unseen force. The man's eyes widened in curiosity, for if he wasn't mistaken, the boy was almost certainly force-sensitive. _

Dehja snapped out of it, coming back to the present as someone pushed past him, knocking his shoulder. His gaze followed the man as he rushed toward a nearby transport, and then he was knocked again, the shove making him stumble, almost losing his balance and falling. He watched as three security officers chased after the man, and felt a twinge of guilt. _As a _Jedi_, I should help them._ He had to put his role as a Jedi behind him, and seek his own path, but it was so hard when there were so many people to be helped, so many who were in desperate need of his aid. He wanted to help; he needed to, for he knew that it was the right thing to do, but should he be doing this as a Jedi? Would the council really ask him to walk the streets, seeking out trouble-makers who needed to be made to toe the line? No. They would have him off on some secret mission to save the Republic.

But whilst they tried to save their Republic, the citizens of the Republic, in the capital city no less, the heart of their democracy, were trampled under foot as the wealthy took advantage of their poverty, and criminals sought to relieve them of what little personal items and credits they did have. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that Dooku was correct, and that the Republic was corrupt, for even here, on Coruscant, under the nose of the Jedi order, crimes were committed, and went unpunished, unsolved, but most importantly: unnoticed. The Jedi had lost themselves in this war, and had completely forgotten what it was they stood for, whilst fighting for a Republic that was not worth saving.

Across the station, a glint of sunlight caught on the glistening metallic surface of his shuttle, and he made his way at an even pace across the floor of the bustling port, finally arriving at the foot of the gang-plank that had been rushed out of the vessel to accommodate for those of the upper-class to whom climbing required too much exertion, and was demeaning in the highest way imaginable. He waited in the line as old men covered in expensive furs, adorned by scantily clad women whom they wore on their arm like decorations, boarded the small ship, and finally moved up the plank himself, handing over his ticket to the man who was standing at the top, collecting them, his beady eyes scanning the crowd ascending to the entrance of the craft, making sure no one who shouldn't be got inside the luxurious vessel free of charge. Dehja made it inside and took a seat at the rear of the ship, preferring to stay conspicuous. He settled down, and drew up his robes around him, pulling his hood further over his face, shrouding his features in shadow.

"**_This is just the beginning" _**Came a familiar voice, and Dehja stirred, his icy eyes glancing about the cabin, searching for the man who had spoken the words, but to no avail. It occurred to him that the words had come from within him, and only he had heard them. He shivered at the idea, and closed his eyes, resolving to get some sleep, for it would be a long journey.

_**Chapter Three: Old friends, new questions**_

_Dehja strolled the halls of the Jedi temple, looking for his friend, excited at the news she had arrived back from her first ever mission with her new master. Master Windu had not taken him anywhere yet, and Dehja felt that it might have been that the stern Jedi Master did not think him worthy, think him capable enough to venture out into the big bad galaxy. One thing was for sure: with Mace around, he always felt safe, for there was nobody he knew as scary as Master Windu. No one would dare challenge him, and if they ever did, they would soon be shown the error of their ways. He turned another corner, and literally dashed down the corridor to the waiting door of his best friend. He calmed himself at the door, slowing his breathing, he quickly coaxed his hair into a semblance of normalcy whilst staring at his own reflection in the polished surface of the mercury durasteel blocking his path to his prime companion. _

_He rapped his knuckles on the door, his anticipation barely contained in the broad grin that covered his youthful face. The door slid open with a whoosh, and out stepped his friend since childhood; Pix Harp. Her piercing, beautiful blue eyes, so similar to his, met his gaze, and his grin grew broader with each graceful pace she took, stepping soundly into his embrace, and eagerly fumbling over her words as she tried to explain all the marvelous adventures she had had with her master on their long journey._

_She invited him in, and he sat on her simple bedding listening to the exaggerated tales, his eyes alight with curiosity, his tongue wagging at the chance to question every detail at the description of every event. He listened attentively as the hours rolled by until eventually he became bored, and his eyes wondered about the room, trying to find something that could hold his attention for a sustained period of time whilst Pix rambled on about her new master and how powerful and wise he was._

_His gaze finally fell back upon her, and he studied her smiling eyes, and suddenly he felt drawn to her chest, and the two rather large bumps there. He caught himself thinking, and banished the thought, quickly moving his eyes on to another part of the room. He had heard about this. Master Yoda had described it as lust, a desire of the flesh. He didn't even know what was under her robes, but for some reason, the swelling at her chest, which he believed was named "a breast", caught his interest, and stirred….feelings within him, dark desires that he pushed to the back of his mind, trying to forget, but never truly vanquishing._

_He took in her sumptuous lips, and again tore his gaze away from her. The thoughts leapt unbidden from the shadows of the dark recesses of his mind, and he could not push the urges away. What the hell was wrong with him? Pix was his friend, and he had never felt this way before. He was so confused. He knew what he had to do. He politely excused himself, rattling off some rubbish about needing to do a little studying before he retired to bed. She hugged him tight and pecked him on the cheek, and he found his knees week, ready to buckle beneath him. Quickly he hurried from the room, determined to find his master and decipher what it was that was driving him to act like such a fool in the presence of his best, and indeed only, friend._

_He found him in the council chambers, but Master Yoda was also there, and they looked to be discussing something, so he backed away from the entrance, trying to make his silent get away. But, as usual, they both sensed his presence. He cursed him for a fool, thinking to escape detection by the two most powerful Jedi he had ever known. _

"_Stop skulking and come tell me what the problem is, Dehja." The deep baritone of Master Windu commanded from beyond the door to the council chambers. Shyly Dehja shuffled in, eyes downcast, face flushed crimson._

"_Embarrassed, be not. Off your chest, off with it!" Master Yoda chimed in his crackly voice, brimming with mirth, as were his eyes when the young Padawan finally lifted his gaze to meet that of the two council members. He traced a jagged circle on the carpet with a shaky foot, and addressed his master, trying to raise his chin , unashamed as he did so._

"_It's Pix, Master-_

"_Ahhh," Master Yoda sighed deeply, "so you have finally been tempted, young Dehja?" Dehja looked crestfallen. They were on to him. Beads of sweat stood out at his brow, and he averted his gaze, but no matter where he looked, their disappointed faces were imprinted on his mind's eye._

"_Do not be discouraged, Dehja. It is only natural that someone of your age would feel such emotions, and you should not try to deny that these feelings are a part of who you are." Mace explained, solemn as ever._

"_Jedi, you are. Pursue these feelings, you must not, or a Jedi no longer you will be." Master Yoda croaked cryptically. Master Windu held Dehja's gaze, and saw the confusion written all over his face. He took a deep breath, and set about explaining the meaning of Yoda's words._

"_It is not the Jedi way to give in to the desires of the flesh. To be a Jedi means to hold to the strength of the spirit to resist the temptations that present themselves to us all."_

"_I think I understand, Master." Dehja said uncertainly. The two Masters exchanged glances, and Yoda giggled like a youngling whilst Mace cracked the first smile Dehja had ever seen grace his somber face._

"_What defines a true Jedi is someone who follows are ways, and I will not lie, we all feel the call of such basic urges, but," he continued, gesturing to the hunched form of the ancient Jedi Master beside him, "it is resisting these desires that makes us Jedi, that proves we are dedicated to the Jedi way of life, to the code, to the force. Similar bonds often form between Apprentice and Master, and it can be hard when one of the two passes away, for each one holds great stores of emotion for the other, and this can be a problem at times, but compassion is something every Jedi needs, and this is why we would never deny friendships such as yours and Pix's to develop, despite the fact that challenges for both of you will arise from that bond. In fact," he said, glancing again to Master Yoda who had regained his composure beside him, "it is the prime reason why we **encourage** such friendships. Do you understand?" He asked, his hands coming together to form a steeple, his index fingers as one, the apex, pressed to his lips pensively._

"_Yes, I am sure I do now, Master. Thank you." Dehja said appreciatively, backing away in a low bow toward the door to the council chambers. Mace inclined his head in recognition, and went back to his involved conversation with Master Yoda, picking it up with fervors, as if Dehja and his meager problems hadn't even required enough thought to break their train of thought. Then again, what do you expect? He thought to himself, berating himself for his stupidity again. Of course it wasn't much to them, for they were the greatest of the Jedi order, the pinnacle. Together they represented a well of wisdom, intelligence and power. _

_He traversed the maze of narrow corridors and finally made it back to his small, but adequate, personal chamber. He slumped to his bed, and fell straight into a deep, yet fitful sleep, fully clothed, his lightsaber clipped to the loop at his belt. He saw Pix, but there were no words, just her flashing images of the times they had spent together, fleeting grins, and he tossed and turned, and his subconscious mind screamed to him that it was wrong, but a smile adorned his face as the capital city of the Republic bustled around the slumbering Jedi Temple._

Dehja's eyes flickered open, and he looked about the cabin. They were in transit, and nearly everybody else aboard the shuttle were sleeping, some snoring loudly whilst others remained quiet and peaceful. His mind returned to Pix Harp, his lifelong friend, and he wondered where she was. Then it came back to him: She was on some remote world, fighting battle after battle for the Jedi. He wondered if she had ever doubted her own path, and immediately a derisive snort sounded from him as he realized with one hundred per cent certainty she had never doubted the way of the Jedi in her life, and likely never would. He closed his eyes, and tried to let his thoughts drift, hoping to return to his dreams once more, and escape the boredom of the dormant cabin, where all others slept.


End file.
